>«BURY  ME  ON  THE  FIELD,  BOY&." 

Dear  Avalanche:  I  have  just  read  with  a 
sense  of  deep  humiliation  the  correspondence  in 
which  our  people,  forbidden  to  honor  our  dead, 
humbly  plead  that  they  ouly  proposed  to  put  flow- 
ers on  the  graves  of  "  fathers  and  brothers."  The 
last  words  of  the  gallant  General  R.  Wheat  oc- 
curred to  me: 

"Bury  me  on  the  field,  boys,"  among  the  glory-crown  e<J ; 
The  blue  skies  abuve  me,  and  the  moaning  pines  around. 
No  strutting  satraps  loot,  boys,  should  my  bleeding  country 

fall, 
Will  venture  to  this  wildwood,  to  hold  our  dust  in  thrall ; 
To  order  you,  melodious  pines,  sweet  sisters  byfour  graves, 
To  stop  their  "demonstrations"— as  well  command  thewav< 
For  welll  know,  they  "11  sing  on  thro'  the  long  and  dres 

night, 
Our  deeds  of  lofty  daring  and  the  glory  of  the  fight ! 

Then  "bury  me  on  the  field,  boys,''  that  no  timid  shv. 

come, 
Obsequious  to  the  tyrant,  where  rattled  once  our  drum  ; 
Where  the  brave  and  true  uf  heart,  bovs,  went  down  b 

the  storm, 
Smiling  as  you  see,  boys,  whde  sinks  my  helpless  form. 

"O,  bury  me  on  the  field, boys,'' where  Washington  declare.?. 
When  Northern  arms  forsook  him.  and  the  British  lion  r 
•At  Rockfish  Gap  I'll  gather  a  legion  still  to  save 
Thia  Kind  from  England's  lion,  but  wi  1  uot  die  a  slave." 
"O,  bury  me  on  the  fieid  boys,''  I  ask  no  pompous  tomb, 

sleep  among  the  brave,  boys,  whatever  fate  may  con 
V     -vt  though  no  woman's  hand,    boys,   should   drop   a  sing    ■ 

■  r, 
When  we  struggled  to  defend  her.  when  the  battle  raged   evil 

power, 
Her  sweet  affections  still,  boys,  will  \  isit  our  graves. 
A8  to  ruined  Sumter  ever  come  the  kneeling  waves, 

Then  "bury  me  on   th9  field,    boys,"  and   when  the  wintry 

storm, 
Oomes  whooplug  from  yon  mountain  and  the   cloud  of  demon 

form 
Renews  the  cannon's  thunder— if  the  dead  return  to  earth, 
We'll  ride  upon  their  fury  in  freedom's  lotty  mirth, 
And  if  ye  listen  well,  boys,  methinks  ye'll  hear  the  son;-; 
Of  Dixie  high  in  Heuven  as  the  tempest  rolls  along— 
Farewell,  I'm  sinking  fast,  boys,  but  tell  my  noble  sire 
His  fathers  gather  round  me  with  all  tneir  wonted  fire — 
I  feel  their  presence  now,  boys,  they  bear  jae  up  to  heaven 
i. "member!— "on  the  field,  boys," yes, yes,  'tis  dusk  of  e'5  u. 

•Washington's  words  when  the  Jersey  and  Massac .. 
troepa  were  deserting. 


Hollinger  Corp. 
pH8.5 


